


Pretty

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris just has a really pretty penis, OK?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching porn, like you do, and [this actor](https://38.media.tumblr.com/fa560d9fca173e907863f432661ae785/tumblr_ni0qr5OOaT1sptrnpo1_500.jpg) (Paddy O’Brian is his nom de pr0n) just had the most beautiful penis I have ever seen in my life (note the image is NSFW). So then I thought this should be a Kink Meme prompt. And then I thought, “Nah, I should write the thing!” So here it is.

Zach took a seat in front of the makeup mirror in the dressing room with a pained sigh. That volcano suit had been a disaster from the start and he knew it would be, but what was he supposed to do? He was assured by Zoë that it looked really good on camera, and he was nothing if not willing to sacrifice for his art, but a careless apprentice had not been paying attention the last time they'd fastened the helmet and pinched the side of his neck something fierce. He now had a nasty, two-inch bruise blooming, with bonus blood blisters, and just looking at it made him want to whimper. He reached for the tub of salve he used when the glue on the ears got to be too irritating and opened it, taking a small amount on his fingertips and looking at it reluctantly. There was no way this wasn't going to hurt. 

“You should try some ice or something first,” said a voice behind him. He looked up in the mirror to see that Chris had entered the room, fresh from set and still in his Nabiru wet suit. A snafu with scheduling had forced the cast to double up on dressing rooms, and he and Chris had been sharing for the last two weeks. 

“You think?”

“Looks like it might be a little swelly.”

Zach huffed a small laugh. “Swelly?”

“It's totally a word,” Chris said with a grin as he headed for the fridge and filled a hand towel with ice. He brought it back to Zach and gave it to him. 

“Thanks man.” Zach hissed as he settled the makeshift ice pack over the injury. Man, that hurt like a bitch. 

“I have to say I thought you took it really well when the kid did that to you,” Chris commented. He stood there with a hand on his hip, the wet suit obscenely tight-fitting on his frame, his hair spiky looking from the product they'd used to make it look wet. “I think I'd still be whining.”

“No, you wouldn't,” Zach said. Chris was anything but a baby about these things. He'd cracked a rib when he'd toppled over the Captain's chair during their onscreen fight in the first reboot film and hadn't mentioned it until production had wrapped. JJ had wanted to kill him. 

Chris shrugged and then proceeded to try to unzip the wet suit. Unfortunately, it was so tight he could not move properly and he stood there, arms raised impotently, unable to reach the zipper. He was moaning with frustration before Zach took pity on him and went over to help. 

“If you could just get the zipper for me, I can do the rest. I don't know what they were thinking with this thing.”

Zach glanced down at his ass and raised a brow. “You kidding? Can you really not imagine what they were thinking when they designed these suits for you and Karl?”

“Man shut up!” Chris laughed and pushed him a little at the shoulder, turning a wholly too-attractive shade of puce from his ears all the way down his neck before looking away. Chris's inability to take a compliment was possibly the most attractive thing about him, not that Zach allowed himself to think these things. 

Zach shook his head, laughing silently as he placed a hand on Chris's shoulder and maneuvered him so he could get to the zipper at the back. He found where it was hidden inside the collar and pulled on it. Chris shivered as it traveled down his spine and squirmed as the tightness eased on his torso. “Aw yeeeeahhh,” he groaned, nearly pornographic-sounding in his relief.

“Be careful, you don't want to come in that thing,” Zach quipped, crossing the room to retrieve his ice pack and turning back to face him,. 

To his delight, Chris blushed even harder, though he was quick with a rejoinder. “I thought rubber suits were more your thing,” he said as he peeled the wet suit down his arms. 

“Ha! Touché.” Zach’s experience with the rubber man suit while filming American Horror Story had left much to be desired. “As a consequence, I am not without sympathy for your plight. Next time you put that thing on, may I suggest the generous application of cornstarch? It does wonders.”

Chris had gotten the thing down as far as his hips and frowned. “Really?”

Zach could see patches of reddened skin on his sides where the seams of the suit had chafed and left their impressions on him. It looked, frankly, horrible. “Really. Helps to get it on, but then it helps with the chafing.”

“I’ll have to pick some up at the market – thanks.” Chris looked thoughtful as he peeled the wet suit further down his body, over the ample curve of his buttocks and down to mid-thigh.

That was when all the air left Zach’s lungs.

As the suit was wrenched down past Chris’s crotch, it was obvious he had worn no underwear. Absolutely none. Nada. Nothing. And he was standing there, cluelessly fussing with turning the arms of the suit right side out, completely uncaring about his nakedness and the effect it was having on Zach.

Chris’s cock was, simply put, the most beautiful Zach had ever seen. Even flaccid, it was long, thick, and evenly shaded, with no visible faults or blemishes. His balls were large, well-defined, and held close to his body, gently furred with the same dark golden hair he sported on the rest of his body. 

Zach stared, transfixed, his mouth suddenly watering. 

“God, this thing is im _poss_ ible,” Chris complained, yanking the wet suit down his thick, well-muscled legs. He glanced up at Zach, brows raised and forehead creased. “I don’t know how you could deal, man.”

Zach tore his eyes from the sight before him and met Chris’s gaze; now he was the one with a reddening face. He raised the towel with the ice in it up and plopped it against his neck, wincing; the pain was just the thing to get his mind out of the gutter – and Chris’s crotch. “I dunno, I just did, ha-ha.”

“Well, hopefully I won’t have to wear it too many more days,” he said, going back to undressing. He bent over to undo his boots, treating Zach to a bonus side show of dangling manhood, before standing up to toe them off. At last, he peeled the suit over his large feet, straightened and hung it over a nearby chair for the wardrobe folks to come get later. “Man, I need a shower.” 

Zach watched as his well-proportioned ass and narrow hips swayed across the room, grabbing for his street clothes and a towel before disappearing behind the bathroom door. Chris was well into the third verse of _Hotel California_ before Zach realized he was standing there with his mouth hanging open.

\----

From that day on, filming became a special kind of torture. 

Everywhere Zach looked were reminders of what he had seen: a bowl of huge peaches on the craft services table one day, a weenie roast for lunch the next. And every evening, Chris would come back to their shared dressing room, strip out of the damn wet suit in front of him like Bathsheba at her bath, and proceed to have a conversation about their day like it was the most normal thing. Zach tried to ignore him, he even stayed away from the dressing room for an extra hour one night, hoping to avoid the show. But when he returned, it was to find Chris already showered and walking around the place with nothing but a towel around his hips, which subsequently fell off the second he bent over to pick something up.

Now, it wasn’t as if Zach had never noticed how attractive Chris was, and it wasn’t even as if they hadn’t undressed in front of each other before, but he had never actually gotten an eyeful of Full Frontal Pine. Certainly he’d have remembered, because objectively, Chris had the most beautiful set Zach had ever seen in his life. With the amount of porn he’d seen, he had a lot to compare it to, too. Seriously, Renaissance Masters went mad sculpting that shit. The day he woke up humping his mattress because he’d dreamed of being violated by giant, sentient mushrooms was the day he nearly called in sick.

Thankfully, he was assigned his own dressing room the following Monday, and the torture would be over. Except for the fact that it wasn’t.

“Oh there you are,” Chris said from the doorway, having tracked Zach down that evening. He was dressed in a white terry cloth robe and flip flops. “All the way over here?” Zach’s room was on the other side of the soundstage area. “I miss having you around, buddy.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d like getting your own space back.” Zach was sitting at his table, removing the day’s makeup. Soaking his brows off took forever, and he sat there with the special cleaning cloths they’d given him that were supposed to dissolve the glue and not be quite so harsh on his skin. 

Chris shrugged. “Guess I’m a social animal.”

“Want a beer?”

Chris brightened and headed for the fridge, grabbing two bottles for them. He handed one to Zach and went to sit on the couch across the room, behind Zach. “Soakin’ off the Vulcan, huh?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” Zach said, cracking open his beer and taking a swig. “Sometimes I wish I could just leave them on and sleep in them or something.” He wet the cloth down with additional solvent and held it to his brow, then spun around to face Chris. “It’d save me a lot of peen.” 

Zach stopped short, his mouth slightly open. Chris was sitting on the couch, legs spread. His robe, which was knee-length, had fallen open, offering a perfect view of the Pine family jewels. “I mean, pain,” he said, covering.

Chris, if he’d noticed, was a good enough friend not to say anything, though not good enough to close his damn legs. Zach’s eyes snapped up to meet Chris’s with a laser-like focus.

“Really? It hurts that much?”

Zach could feel a stirring in his pants. He took a drag on his beer. “Yeah, my skin’s kinda…” Chris sat back and rested an arm along the back of the couch and, Zach could see with his peripheral vision, his dick flopped over to loll along the front of his balls. Zach swallowed. “Sensitive.”

“You’d like to suck it, huh?”

“What?!” Zach asked, sitting up straighter; damn his eyes for drifting downward again! His eyes locked on Chris’s so fast he thought he sprained something.

“I said, it really sucks, huh?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” Zach shook himself and removed the cloth from his brow; most of the tiny fragments of real human hairs they used in his makeup came away, and he took the opportunity to turn back around to apply more of the solvent.

“Hey, I was thinking of heading over to that place with the tacos – you want to come?”

The thought of watching Chris eat a taco – and, inevitably, lick at his forearm as the juices ran down – was literally the only and yet the last thing Zach wanted in that moment. 

“Nah, I promised my mom I’d call her,” Zach lied. 

Chris rose and chucked his empty beer bottle into the recycle bin. “Suit yourself. More tacos for me.”

Zach had not felt the need to cross himself quite so much since the day puberty hit with a vengeance and he’d spent the better part of a Sunday morning in his bed humping his Stretch Armstrong doll. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he muttered, and finished his beer.

\----

Thankfully Zach spent the next two days filming his scenes inside the volcano, which meant he didn't get much of a chance to interact with Chris. He hated that he felt relief at not being with his friend. Chris was legitimately one of his favorite people on the planet, and not chatting with him, if even in the makeup department in the mornings, made him sad. But he didn't know where this sudden lust had come from, and he was too afraid of saying or doing something that would harm their relationship. So if the (temporary) solution was to keep himself away from Chris until he could get his hormones under control, then so be it. 

_God, he just needed to get laid._

Perhaps it was the lack of exposure, or his ability to maintain a Zen-like calm (he liked to think it was the latter because he was a spiritual beast), but he was feeling downright confident by the time Saturday rolled around. They needed the extra day of filming to get caught up on their schedule before parts of the production went off to San Francisco for the location shoot. It was a fun, friendly vibe on set, so Simon suggested a night out to keep it going, Zach included. He needed to blow off some steam, and a group outing would be a good way for him to test his newly-found resolve. Surely he’d be able to keep his eyes to himself while in mixed company – he wasn’t a total perv. 

They headed to a nearby English pub Simon's friend owned. The entire principal cast and some of the other actors from the bridge crew made a lively crew that took over the back room, where a pair of pool tables could be found. Zach sat, as usual, with Chris, Karl, and Simon. After they ate, John suggested a pool tournament. 

Zach stayed in the booth, hunkered down against the wall, hiding his Spock brows (or lack thereof) behind a pair of glasses and a beanie. He was utterly hopeless at the game, but he enjoyed watching as Zoë kicked Anton’s ass at nine ball, accepting the shots of Jack Daniels Karl plied him with almost blindly. He'd scarfed up a plate of fish and chips earlier, so he wasn’t spectacularly drunk, but nature soon ran its eventual course and he found he needed to go to the bathroom. He prodded Chris, who was seated next to him, in the shoulder to let him out of the booth. “Gotta take a piss.”

“Sure, man,” Chris said, climbing out of the booth. As he stood there, adjusting his jeans, Zach felt a momentary stab of self-pride that he kept his eyes firmly on his friend’s face as he moved past him. “You know what, man, think I’ll come with you,” Chris said as soon as Zach had passed by.

Zach thought nothing of it – it wouldn’t be the first or the last time Captain Kirk and Mister Spock hit the head together. He noticed that the room was empty when he pushed through the door and headed for the urinals. There were three in there, so Zach took the one on the left out of habit. Being left-handed, it was always easier to not have someone on his immediate left as a matter of course. He had just unzipped and was reaching inside his underwear for his dick when Chris took the spot to his immediate right.

Zach froze for a moment. There was a very common yet unstated protocol that, given a choice, a man should always leave a buffer zone around himself and his fellows while in a public restroom. That Chris had not adhered to the unwritten rule was suddenly and disturbingly an issue. 

Zach kept his eyes front, staring directly at the wall for a second before he realized he was standing there with his fingers inside his fly but nothing to show for it. He sprang back into action, easing his dick out into the cool air of the men’s room, when – _damn his eyes for traitors anyway_ – he happened to glance down at what he was doing and caught a glimpse of Chris out of the corner of his eye. His movements were casual, meaningless – of course they were – but Zach could not help seeing an air of brio in the movement, as if he was literally whipping his dick out of his pants. It _bobbed_ , and bounced, and Chris took control of it masterfully, leaning forward a bit and humming as his flow started.

Zach stood there, transfixed once more, his own urge to urinate not so much forgotten as rendered inert.

“Pee shy?” Chris asked after a moment.

“What?” Zach’s eyes snapped up to Chris’s face, so wide he was sure they looked like something out of a Tex Avery cartoon.

Chris raised his eyebrows meaningfully. 

Zach cursed inwardly as his face heated. “God, I dunno, man. That’s weird ahahaha!” His voice was impossible shrill in his ears.

Chris made a sympathetic face, flushed, and went to wash his hands. When he was gone, Zach’s “blockage” resolved itself and he stood with his head hanging in shame as he took his piss, washed up, and left.

Once back at the table, Zach was relieved to see that Chris had been conscripted to play doubles with Zoë against John and Simon, so he hung out with Karl and got quietly shitfaced. It was after 11:00 pm when he got up from the table, made sure he was alone when he visited the bathroom one last time, and headed for the door.

“You’re not driving, are you?”

He turned around to find Chris standing beneath the overhang of the door to the pub. It had been threatening rain all day, and it had begun at last, a thin mist accompanied by a heavy fog. “Definitely not – I’ve got an Uber coming or something.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“That’s OK. You sure you should drive?”

Chris shrugged. “I only had two beers, and it was over four hours ago. Come on, man, my car’s right here.” He hit the door lock button as if to illustrate; the headlights of the Benz lit up as it beeped from its slot a mere twenty feet away.

“OK, sure,” Zach said. He didn’t love the idea of some rando knowing his LA address anyway, so he pulled out his phone and canceled the ride. As usual, the road outside his house was surprisingly ill-lit, so when they arrived, Chris insisted on walking him to the door.

“Man, I’ve got it, it’s OK.”

“It’s no big deal and besides, I haven’t seen the kids in like forever.”

“Oh? Well, we’ll have to remedy that then.” Zach was always tickled when someone wanted to see the dogs, so he bound up the walk to the front door, and let them both in.

Predictably, Skunk ran around in circles like the excitable little idiot he was, and Noah jumped up on Chris, hooking big paws over his hips to give him a doggy hug. Chris bent over to kiss him on the head, then did a little dance with him before making him jump down. Once the joy was over, Zach moved to the kitchen to get them a biscuit – his dog walker had already been in to feed and walk them earlier in the evening. 

“Can I offer you a nightcap?” he said to Chris. 

“Got any beer?”

Zach grabbed them each a bottle from the fridge and they went into the living room where he settled into the couch while Chris took a seat in the big chair. He slouched down, legs spread wide, and propped his beer up on his thigh. He looked at Zach with eyes crinkled in a smile. 

“What?” Zach asked.

“Nothing. I haven’t seen you in a couple days – how have you been?”

Zach shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

Chris’s eyes crinkled even more. “That’s good. So we’re at about the halfway point in the shoot.” 

“Yep.”

“Any plans for after?”

“You mean like vacation?”

“I meant bigger plans – were you going to head to New York again?”

“Oh. Yeah, I think so – got a few things in the fire. What about you?”

“Yep. Things. Fire. But I am taking a vacation first. Thinking about Vegas maybe.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. I haven’t been in a while and – Noah stop!” Zach’s scolding was too late to prevent his dog from heaving the front half of his body into Chris’s lap – something the big dog knew he was not allowed to do. As he did, Chris lost the loose grip he had on his beer bottle, and it fell over, spilling half its contents right in Chris’s lap.

“Oh! Oh no!” Chris said, standing up immediately. Beer soaked his skinny jeans from his crotch down to his knees and, as he stood, some poured off onto the floor. “The carpet, shit!” 

Zach rushed to the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with a roll of paper towels. He handed a wad of them to Chris and got down on his knees to soak up the spill on the carpet. 

“Oh crap – is it bad?” Chris asked. He stood there clutching the towels to his thighs, ineffectually trying to soak up the mess.

“I’m sure it’ll be all right,” Zach said, glancing up at him. “Can’t say the same about those pants.”

“This is really cold. And gross,” Chris agreed. “God, they’re like, clinging to me. In places.”

“Shit man, I’m sorry. Bad dog, Noah!” Zach scolded the dog, who was already retreating toward the bedroom with a contrite expression and his tail curled beneath him as if to protect his belly. 

“You think I could borrow something?”

“Sure –“ Zach began to say, and he was about to add something about fetching a pair of sweats from the bedroom when Chris immediately undid his pants and shoved them down his thighs. 

Zach now found himself looking Chris’s crotch straight on, black Armani briefs soaked and clinging close to his body, putting literally everything into very stark relief. The gentleman, apparently, dressed to his right, and Zach could make out the outline of Chris’s dick as it arced gracefully over the top of his balls like a swan’s neck or something. This was it, both his most recent nightmare and wet dream at the same time: him on his knees, Chris standing over him with his crotch in his face. 

“Uhhh….”

“Is it what you expected?” Chris said suddenly.

Zach looked up at him; his eyes were inscrutable. “What?”

“My junk. I asked if it was what you expected.” His voice was low, throaty. 

_What the hell was going on?_ They stared at each other for a minute, Zach on his knees, Chris breathing heavily, the hoppy scent of a fine IPA hanging between them. The low, golden light of the living room made Chris’s eyes dark and smoldering, his gaze never wavering from Zach’s, who found the fact he couldn’t look away to be on the edge of uncomfortable.

“I think my favorite porno starts this way,” he finally said.

Chris threw his head back and laughed and the awkwardness Zach felt dissipated. “You mean you’re not one for a lot of plot and character development?”

“Not in my porn, no.” Zach sat back on his heels. 

“So what happens next in that porno?”

“The guy on the floor gets kissed.”

“Does he?” Chris reached down and hooked a finger under Zach’s jaw. Zach rose up on his knees as Chris leaned over, their lips meeting for the first time. It was, objectively, a decent kiss. Chris’s lips were soft and warm, as pillowy as they appeared to be, and surprisingly motile. Zach sighed against Chris’s mouth and pulled away to get his breath. “Is this really OK?” Chris asked. His hand was on Zach’s neck, his broad thumb lightly stroking his jaw, and the urge to press his face against him, like a cat seeking a head rub, was almost too strong.

“Truthfully, I’ve never thought about it before, not actively. Not beyond thinking, ‘Hey, he’s cute,’ when we first met.”

“That I believe.”

“You’re my friend – I never want to fuck that up. I can compartmentalize.”

“You’re really good at that.” Chris stood up.

“What do you mean?”

He reached out and pushed Zach’s bangs off his forehead, and kept stroking his hair lightly. “I mean I never in a hundred years would have thought you were into me, not before that day in the dressing room.”

“But you’re into me?”

“Yeah.” He sighed as his eyes darted away. “For a while now. I guess I’m not so good at compartmentalizing.”

“Hey,” Zach said, reaching up to take his hand. When Chris didn’t look at him, he tugged on his wrist to get his attention. “I’m sorry I was so clueless, I’m sorry if it hurt you.”

“You didn’t. You really didn’t.”

“You sure? Because I _am_ into this, into you.” Chris looked away again, his face coloring. “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to see more of that beautiful cock of yours up close. And personal.” He gave his most winning smile, and it had the desired effect. Chris’s face lit up like Christmas, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, wide and happy. 

“Oh. Well, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Zach felt a heat pooling in his belly, and it shot straight down to his balls. He tugged at Chris’s wrist, and he leaned over, taking Zach’s face between his hands and kissing him passionately. After a moment, Zach pulled back, putting his hands on Chris’s hips, his fingertips just under the waistband of Chris’s briefs. 

Chris took a step backward and got hung up by the pants around his knees. He sat back down, nearly falling into the chair, the air rushing out of his lungs with a faint _Oof!_ He laughed then, at his own clumsiness, at the situation, but Zach’s eyes fell inexorably lower. Chris was already half-hard in his wet briefs, his dick straining up toward his belly. Zach moved forward on his knees, eager to see, finally, what he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now.

He wasted no time, peeling Chris’s underwear down his thighs. He wasn’t going to kid himself, the wetness from the spilled beer was not the most pleasant thing he’d experienced in his sexual life, but it was quickly forgotten as he saw and, a moment later, felt Chris in his hand. 

Chris was big. Huge, in fact. But beyond that, his dick was simply the prettiest specimen Zach had ever seen in his life. Even hard, there were no imperfections. No bumps or humps, no bends or discolorations, just a straight column of flesh that was perfectly proportioned, with a prominent, bulbous head that was just now beginning to leak a small, pearlescent bead of pre-cum.

“It’s perfect,” Zach said with the kind of awe reserved for natural treasures like the Grand Canyon.

“Man, shut up!” Chris said, blushing even more. 

“What, you don’t think I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Zach began to stroke him then, not with any kind of urgency or even finesse, he just wanted to _feel_ it, the softness of the skin, the weight in his hand. _Jesus, how did Chris not have chronic back pain from hauling the thing around?_

“I would not dare impugn your dick cred, but come on.”

“Surely I’m not the first person to bring this up?” 

“Well, I mean… Olivia maybe.”

“She is a wise and discerning woman.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You doubt my estimation of her character?”

“I try not to disagree with people who have my dick in their hands, no.”

“A fair point.” 

Zach leaned forward then, dipping his head down into Chris’s crotch, resting his mouth against the base and kissing the lightly furred skin there. He liked to begin a blowjob in this way mostly because it was unexpected – and he wanted to be memorable – but also because he loved catching the deep, musky scent of his partners. And there it was, just under the yeasty tang of the beer, a scent that was unmistakably Chris’s, one he recognized of course, having known him so well over the years, but concentrated, more intimate. He wasted no time, starting at the base of Chris’s dick and moving upward slowly, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length. When he got to the head, he did the same, eliciting a shiver and a gasp. 

Zach usually liked to, at this point, be a bit of a tease, licking and kissing his way down the other side of a guy’s dick, but this time was different. Chris’s reactions so far had been immediate yet restrained, as if he didn’t want to let himself go. He’d extended a hand only to let it hover above Zach’s head and then retreat to rest on his own belly, the hand quivering, as if the restraint was costing him something. Zach couldn’t wait now to see what it would look like for Chris to lose some of this control he was apparently exerting over himself, so he stepped up his game. He looked up at Chris then, saw the anticipation in his eyes and smiled before engulfing the head of Chris’s cock with his whole mouth.

“Oh God!” Chris gasped, his hips surging for just a moment before he settled back into the chair. Zach kept up a steady suction for a few moments, the broad head of Chris’s cock enough to stretch his mouth, then eased off. He swirled his tongue before lowering his head and taking Chris in as far as he could without gagging. Zach was not much of a deep throater – his gag reflex wasn’t exactly on a hair trigger, but he hated the sensation. It didn’t stop him from using his hands, though, which he did, continuing to jack Chris when he had to pull off to get his breath. 

He glanced up at Chris, who lay sprawled back against the chair, looking completely debauched. His t-shirt had ridden up his torso, revealing smooth skin and taut abs, the extra weight he’d had to put on for Kirk giving him extra bulk in his chest. “I would tell you you were beautiful, but I think you know,” Zach said.

“I –” Chris began, then bit his lip and closed his eyes.

 _Interesting,_ Zach thought. Did Chris not believe him, or was he crap at taking a compliment? Zach suspected both and filed it under _to be followed up later_. In the meantime, his own dick was pressing almost painfully against his zipper.

He pulled away, sat back on his heels and undid his fly to relieve the pressure. He pulled his dick out and looked back at Chris, who was watching him with hooded eyes. “You look so hot like that,” Chris said, licking his lips. 

“Yeah?”

“I want to taste you.”

Zach smiled.

“Get up, get over here.”

Chris leaned forward and grabbed Zach’s hand. Zach stood up, got nearer, his dick pointing straight out from his body. He pushed his pants down a little more and got closer. Chris reached for him, hands trembling, and lowered his head. The moist heat of his mouth was exquisite; Zach rested a hand on Chris’s head – it was so warm – and threw his head back as Chris went down on him, his head bobbing up and down, up and down as he reached forward with his hand to fondle Zach’s balls.

“Oh!” Zach said as Chris pressed two fingertips against his taint, coming damn close to hitting his sweet spot on the first try. He pulled away then, Chris’s mouth going slack as he did. “I’m gonna come too soon if you keep that up, baby,” he warned breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Chris said with a crooked smile.

“I think you’re lying.”

“I think you talk too much,” Chris replied, taking Zach’s dick and feeding it into his own mouth again. Despite Zach’s warning, Chris went down on him with gusto, head bobbing as he took more and more of him down. 

“Jesus,” Zach gasped, his knees weakening. He leaned in, resting his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “You’re really good at this, you know that?”

Chris looked up at him, eyes shining, and hummed. 

“Yeah, you know it.” Zach closed his eyes and began to thrust his hips shallowly, almost involuntarily. Chris rested his hands on them to control him, but he didn’t hold him back much. A moment later, Zach could feel his balls tightening. His hips stilled as he tried to concentrate on lasting a bit longer. That was when Chris slid his hand with those goddamn long fingers of his beneath Zach’s balls and pressed on his taint again. 

Zach came with a shout that brought the dogs running from the bedroom where they’d decamped earlier, Noah barking as Zach nearly collapsed on top of Chris. He managed to get a knee onto the chair, at least, and slid down to the side in an undignified heap, his pants still hiked down around mid-thigh.

“Noah, shh!” he ordered, flopping a hand uselessly in the dog’s direction. It did little to calm him as he ran from room to room making little huffing noises. “Have I mentioned they’re the joy of my life?” Zach asked Chris.

“They just want to protect you,” Chris said. He blinked up at Zach, eyes large and mouth glistening, hair sticking up in all directions, and Zach knew exactly what he was talking about. A feeling of such tenderness overtook him. 

“Come here,” Zach said, a hand on Chris’s chin as he kissed him. Chris shifted to the side, allowing Zach more room in the chair, and soon they were completely entangled. Zach slid a hand down to finish Chris off as they kissed.

Chris pulled away a few moments later. “Oh,” he said, as if someone had just fed him an interesting bit of trivia, and then he was coming in thick ropes all over Zach’s hand and his own shirt, his eyes closed and his mouth open. Zach couldn’t resist kissing him.

Minutes later, after all was calm – the dogs had given up and finally lay down nearby, and their pulses had calmed – Zach sat back. “You’re amazing,” he said.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“But as far as grand seductions go, you really might want to work on yours. I mean, dropping trou and hoping the other person falls in love with your cock is only going to happen to you once, maybe twice in your life, Christopher. Any other time, and you’ll find yourself in a bit of trouble.”

Chris laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to read in a tabloid somewhere that you were arrested for exposing yourself to some unsuspecting person you had a crush on.”

“Oh, that won’t happen again,” Chris promised.

Zach looked down at him and realized suddenly how much he agreed with that statement. “You’re damn right – you’re mine now,” Zach replied, and kissed him again.

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
